


Time's like these

by sketzocase



Series: Songs of the Heart [3]
Category: X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-02
Updated: 2015-10-02
Packaged: 2018-04-24 09:25:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4914088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sketzocase/pseuds/sketzocase
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A one shot follow up to "Ever Long" And "Best of you"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Time's like these

**Author's Note:**

> Just something that I felt needed to happen before I completely closed off this little universe in my writing!  
> Enjoy! 
> 
> (also I promise it's not that heavy.)

“And he’s fine?” He asks in a tired if not skeptical tone.

“Already called the therapist.” I assure. “She’s talked him down. He’s doing well- went to sleep at ten last night…. Seems to have stayed asleep. I’m just getting back from the store and it doesn’t look like he’s moved yet. So I think it’s safe to say he’s slept through the night.” I try to keep my voice reassuring. This doesn’t need to be an argument- right? It’s just a check-up. A little run down of what’s going on, thirty minutes max and he’s off the phone.

“…Just like that?” Definitely skeptical now. “He hasn’t slept in weeks. What’s the catch? What did you do?”

I move the phone a little away from my ear and to my shoulder so that I can balance the jumble of materials I’ve got in my hands.

“I didn't do  anything.” I defend myself. “Maybe he’s just finally tired. It's been a long week." 

"Long week- huh?" The phone is a little fuzzy.

"Well yeah." I say. "There was yesterday ... and he met with that other doctor this week and he had to do a physical- you know he hates those. And-" 

"I got it." Logan cuts me off. "He had a long week. He calmed down last night. He slept. And he’s fine after his little ‘guest’ yesterday?”

“He handled it very well- all things considered.” Calming the parents is a new thing for me. Loving someone who’s been hurt badly and is still raw is hard. Having to explain your every action and his every reaction to his overprotective father- is harder.

Logan sighs. “His ‘guest’- that’s a new one, isn’t it? It’s not one his list…. Is it? Did I overlook it?”

I frown, looking around the clean kitchen with an odd sense both satisfaction and upsetness. He trashed it not three days ago. It took the last two to clean up. “No, this one wasn’t on his list.” I’m trying not to sound impatient, but it's too early for this song and dance.

Daken won’t tell Logan how he’s doing.

Logan sends Laura.

Laura sees Daken’s behavior and tells Logan.

Logan calls Daken.

Daken refuses to answer.

And then- the piece de resistance – Logan calls me.

I answer for all parties involved in conversations that can last up to two hours, and he lets it go….until the next week when Daken restarts the cycle.

“And it ‘talked’ to him?” He asks.

“Ya. It talked.”

“Well, what did it say?” Logan presses impatiently.

“I don’t know.” I groan. “A little bit of English was said before he slipped completely into Japanese…. It sounded like it was the form of someone he knew.”

“Someone who was made of shadows?” He chuckles. "I doubt it." 

“It had a name.” I try to defend Daken's... hallucinations? That's not right. What am I defending? Fighting Logan is something that seems to have rubbed off on me. Daken finds it amusing when he's in the right headspace. Sometimes, though, and I have to watch this, it scares him when we fight.

“That’s nothing. ‘Shifter’ had a name too.”

“…Well, ‘Shifter’ really was ‘Shifter’s’ name. We grilled the fuck out of Laura when we rescued them and she said she never heard him referred to by Daken, or himself, by any other name. All the files we gathered mentioned him as Shifter. He was a ghost. No real info on him.”

“So this person had a name like Shifter’s but wasn’t Shifter.”

“Yea- it’s a lot like how he acts with Shifter- only when he saw it, he thought the person was actually here. He tried to fight, and then started to scream, and then just went limp. He refused to move for thirty minutes. He said it was watching him.”

"So this person is new.” He restates like he’s trying to make a point. “You think it’s a side effect of the pills?”

I have to really think on that. “No, I don’t think so.”

The pills. Right now, he's only on one. For now. They've just invented a whole slew of them. He's... about to be in for a very rude awakening. The one pill is to get him used to the idea of medication. However- it's not going so well. 

“What else would have caused a new one?” He asks thoughtfully. “That’s the only thing that’s changed.”

“…Well…. The therapist said she’d made a breakthrough with him on some of the things that happened when he was young. Of course- she wouldn’t tell me what it was exactly because he said he didn’t want me to know.”

“I’ll talk to her,” Logan assures. “She’s got to tell me. We can sort it out and see if he needs to keep taking them.”

“Ya well, any insight would be helpful. I was up all night cleaning up after him.”

“And the ‘others’?”

I shrug before remembering that this is a phone conversation and he can’t see me. “He’s seeing Shifter a lot. That’s nothing new, though.”

"Is he still... hurting him? While he sleeps?" 

"Yea," I answer a little quieter. "Yea. Almost every other night." 

"Has he had any more accidents?" 

"With his claws or-"

 "Laura said he was puking at night." 

I have to shake my head. "Those aren't accidents." I laugh. "Don't let him hear you say that. If he thinks we think he's wetting the bed- he'll kill us all." 

"I didn't say wetting-" 

"You said 'accidents'. That implies bed wetting." 

Logan groans. "Is he still puking at night or not?" 

"Yes." 

"Does he wake up?" 

"During." I acknowledge. Daken's stomach is constantly being emptied. I have to make him eat every meal- especially at night. I keep some saltine crackers on his nightstand.

"Did the doctor say anything about it?" 

I tap my fingers on the counter. "Just that he should keep eating and lay on his side so he doesn't choke." 

I want plastic tarp put on the bed. 

Some nights he tries to sleep in the tub- so we won't have to clean the mess up. 

I came home from an overnight mission and there he was- towels draped over him as he laid face down in the tub. 

"And that's because of Shifter," Logan says. 

"Yea." I can't help but feel a twinge of something I'd rather not think about. 

"You haven't-"

 "Please don't go there." I cut him off. 

"Have you?" 

We have this discussion more often than I'd like. 

"No, Logan. I haven't." 

"You swear?" 

"Logan-" I growl. "We haven't fucked okay? Just like every other time you've asked." 

"Look Johnny-" 

"He doesn't even like to change in front of me." I snap. "The doctor said I could try giving him massages- ya know- to calm him down? He broke down in tears because my hand was too low on his spine. He asked me to take a bath with him and then threw up on me because he got so upset." 

"Good," Logan says gruffly. "Keep your hands to yourself and clothes in between you." 

Logan and I got into a fight because I kissed Daken the other night.

"If this is about the other night-"

"This is about the other night." Logan agrees. "You can't kiss him. You can't sleep with him. You can't touch him. What part do you not understand?"  

Daken- for the record- was fine with it. He didn't freak out. He didn't push me away. It wasn't even that deep of a kiss. 

“We’ve been together almost a year,” I growl. “We can kiss- Logan. I can hold him. When he and his doctor decide it's time, we can have sex. You don't get to control these things- Daken's not a child.”

"Bullshit he's not." Logan growls.   
  
"Logan-"   
  
"In his condtion-"   
  
"His condition does not mean you can to bulldoze over him and his wishes." I growl. 

"He needs to be protected." Logan presses. I can almost see his face when he says this. 

"And I'm protecting him. That doesn't mean I can't kiss him." 

“Not with Shifter so close to his mind- you can’t.

“Don’t start this .” I actually beg. “Please. He’s fine.”

“He’s not sleeping, he’s puking, he’s-“ 

“Okay to be fair the puking thing is about a lot of things. It just happens to happen most often in the bed.”

Logan sighs. “Could we at least revisit you sleeping on the couch then?”

“Sleeping on the-“ I’m at a loss for words. “Logan I live here! That’s my bed too!” I quickly cover my mouth, remembering he’s trying to sleep.

“Okay, okay,” Logan says quickly. “Okay. You’re right. It’s just with Shifter so close to his mind-“

“Shifter’s always close to his mind.” I cut him off. “You know this.”

Shifter is a dominating force in Daken’s life.

I can’t say certain things. I can’t touch him certain ways.

He even got upset because- and I quote- ‘my scent was off’. The only thing I could think to do for him was to take a shower and use as much body wash and deodorant as I could.

“…. Now would be a good time to get rid of the remains.”

He’s pressing an old argument point- one that I know he won’t like the outcome of. He never does. Up until recently, I’ve been compliant with the ‘Shifter’s remains’ on the shelf thing. I was able to talk Logan out of taking them several different times.I sigh because this time- this time is different. This time it’s gotten to where I agree with him but have to stick by Daken as well. “I can’t.”

“Sure you can. Just tell him that in light of recent events- or some shit- that you need to get rid of the ashes. Give them to me or something. We’ll put them somewhere safe where he won’t have to see them every day.”

This is going to be tricky. “Well….”

“Well, what?” Logan growls. “It’s as simple as that. Take the ashes and be done with it.”

“He … kinda sleeps with them by the bed. Or in the bed…. Respectfully.”

Logan goes dead silent. “…He does what?”

“The container,” I explain, setting down the items in my hand on the kitchen counter. “He sleeps with it by the bed. Or on the bed next to him. To be honest, I’m not really sure which I mind more. I go to put my arm around him and end up brushing up against it. It’s creepy.”

Logan growls, “Johnny that’s not just ‘creepy’- that’s insane! Why the fuck are you letting him do that???”

“Because it puts him to sleep,” I growl back. “He stays up all night looking at it anyway. Might as well make the strain easier on him.”

“Get rid of the ashes,” Logan says lowly.

“And what Logan? Have him stay awake for two more weeks??? Trust me- no one wants those ashes gone more than me… they’re literally in my bed!”

“Tell him he can’t have them anymore.” He tries to reason.

“This isn’t as simple as taking something away from child- Logan. He fights back. He freaks out if I even touch the container. Yesterday he swore it was moving.”

There’s a long silence again. “…Was it?”

“No,” I answer firmly. “No, the ashes did not move. They did not change shape, they did not shift- they’re just ashes.”

I have never had to see the repercussions of my powers this often before. I know I did it for a good cause- but the point is I did it. I torched that man to ashes. I took another human’s life away.

To protect someone, I loved- true. I don’t regret that part. But there’s this weird feeling I get when I look at the container.

“…. Has he ‘heard’ anything from them anymore?”

“…That’s hard to say.” I answer honestly. “When he was talking about them moving- he didn’t say they were talking. Last week, though- like I told you- he said they were talking to him.”

“We need to get rid of them,” Logan says thoughtfully.

“If you want them gone- come take them. Me- I can’t do another two weeks without sleep and Laura is fucking tired of it too. He has exhausted his caretakers to point where him sleeping with the ashes is like a Band-Aid. I slept last night. I can’t tell you how much I needed it.” I don’t add that I didn’t sleep much- but I slept. If he’s awake- I’m awake. I cradle, I soothe, I comfort- everything. Until he kicks me out of the room. Those nights I have to wait outside the door. Most of the time, he will sheepishly open the door and half apologize.

Daken can’t help his mood or his mood swings. He is truly embarrassed by them.

“Laura’s tired too- huh?” He questions more gently than before.

“Oh, yea.” I look through the bags, shifting the plastic with my fingers.

“…. How long did she sit with him?”

“Up until two days ago. That’s when he started sleeping with the container.”

“Well, how’s he acting now that he’s sleeping?”

I look down at the groceries in front of me. “Well… I mean he’s been worse.”

There’s a sound from the bedroom. “How worse?”

I look to the stairs, waiting to see if he’s going to join me. “I mean, we’re talking. He’s not stabbed anything…. He did knick himself the other day- but I think it was an accident.”

“Does Reed need to bring you the gloves?”

Of course- the gloves. Reed made some lightweight material that’s strong enough to block the claws. They wrap around his fingers- but are fingerless. Meaning they go right across the knuckles. The underside runs a little up his arms to make sure the third claw is restrained too. The fasten in a way that he can’t undo on his own- which is good for function but leaves him feeling powerless.

I hate putting him in those things- he fights so hard. Last time it took me and Logan to get them on him. The whole time he was literally pleading with me to stop.

He hates when I have to do the restraining. Just as much as I hate having to do it.

The sound of him begging… with me. It breaks my heart. We ask him to be calm. We promise not to hurt him- it’s not enough. He begs like his life depends on it.

That’s what Shifter did. He liked to hear him beg. He got off on it.

Daken’s therapist filled me in on that. She said to make sure he was understanding that it wasn’t necessary.

It's a habit he can't shake. When he gets scared or upset.... I don't know. He begs. He asks to go back to his room- like I could stop him. I tell him he can go at anytime as long as we're not doing something important. My least favorite is when he begs us not to hurt him. When he begs ME not to hurt him. He talks so fast that his words run over each other. He gets more and more upset because we can't understand him. 

The begging is something that we're trying to stop with as much force as we can put into it. 

He's gotten stronger over the last few months. More independent. More secure in himself. Gotten a little bit of his spunk back. But then there's situations where we're not sure why he's reacting like he is. We only know what he'll tell us. What we can get Laura to tell us. 

“He hates those things.” I sigh. “The claws make him feel safe.”

“...I’ll just bet they do,” Logan says.

I can’t take any more of his shit today- I’ve got to wrap this up. Plus, I’m pretty sure that Daken’s awake at this point. If he’s awake- then he’s listening. If he’s listening- then he’ll know that Logan brought up the gloves and he’ll try to hide from me. “Hey… look, thanks for calling- but I’ve got this- alright?”

Logan snorts. “Sure you do, kid.”

“…What’s that supposed to mean??” I run my hand through my hair, trying to resist pulling any out in frustration.

“Oh, nothing.” He chuckles. “It’s just like when you ‘had this’ when you took him to the store the other day.”

Righhhhht. Check that off as a place Daken’s not allowed to go to anymore.

“It… was a little crowded,” I admit. “He calmed down when I got him home, though.”

“And with just five hundred dollars worth of damage.”

“…. Shut up.”

He laughs again. “Get rid of the ashes, Storm. It’s not healthy.”

“Sir yes sir.” I groan.

“I’m serious.”

“I know you are.”

The phone goes quiet for a second. “Tell me how he’s feeling later. I wanna come check on him sometime today. Get him used to the idea- will ya?”

“I’ll call you this afternoon.” A visit. Great. That’s just what Daken needs.

I’ve been looking down at the bags while talking, when I look up, after having hung up, I jump. My beloved is standing in the kitchen- staring. He looks rested enough. A little dazed. I wonder if that’s sick dazed or just woke up dazed.

He leans against the doorway. “We’re out of food. “

“No we’re not.” I smile. I dig through one of the bags and pull out the various breakfast foods. He likes meat- so it’s a lot of that. “I went shopping this morning.” I try to act normal. “Got you some breakfast stuff.”

His routine has become important to him. So much so that it’s a worse day if he doesn’t have the exact materials he has every other day. Right now it’s breakfast meats and chicken. Breakfast- of course- for the morning, and chicken for everything else. No vegetables, no snacks, just those few items done in the exact same way.

I know for a fact he likes to eat healthier than this. But for some reason, he’s convinced that everything but what we’re eating is poisoned. He worries when I bring in outside food.

Sue said to go around this by planting something outside. She said Reed could make it grow really fast.

Daken doesn’t want to do that, though. He wants to eat breakfast meats and chicken. That’s it. That’s our meals. If I want anything else, I have to eat it outside of the house.

This is part of his…. quirks. His routine- like I was saying.

Getting up differs from day to day, but it’s always before ten. Breakfast is always at ten thirty. Lunch at two. Dinner at seven. Always. Cooked, plated, put on the table and eaten in under ten minutes. Any more than ten minutes and it has to go in the trash.

I’ve been trying to figure out why those times in particular are so important- and from the things I’ve gathered – they were the ‘feeding’ times at the hospital. That shocked me into silence when he said it. I thought he’d want as little to do with that place as possible.

He’s picked up random little things that help him feel in control. The volume on the television- he doesn’t like loud noises. Specific soaps and shower gels. How the yard looks. How the house looks. What temperature the house is.

And god help me if I step over any of his multiple rules. Either he’s beyond angry at me- he’s kicked me out of the house before- or he collapses in on himself. 

Usually, I just ride out the shifting moods with patience. It really doesn’t bother me so much once I figure out which one he’s in.

He raises an eyebrow, taking a package of bacon from me. “Daddy dearest on the phone?”

I nod. “Just wanted to make sure you were sleeping.”

“Of course.” He sighs. “It’s time for a check up anyway- isn’t it?”

Well…. It has been a week. Usually, we have guests once a week.

“Laura may have told him that you were a little more upset than usual.”

Daken nods, running a hand through his hair. “I know she did. She said she would.”

“He wants to come today.” I try to break this gently.

“I wish he wouldn’t.” It doesn’t sound like he’s going to argue, though. He’s all but given up on trying to shut Logan out.

I mean… that’s where his money comes from at the moment. That’s where everything comes from. Orders for the therapist- talks of medication- all that shit. I have very little say in the important things. We’re pretty much at Logan’s mercy.

It’s…. gotten to the point where he likes to micro-manage. And you have not lived until you’ve accidently put yourself under Wolverine’s thumb.

I feel bad for his students.

There’s always the threat that if he doesn’t get his way, he can fuck this whole little arrangement up with a word.

He never says that- but it still stands.

I know there have been certain psychiatrists sneaking around my back and trying to talk Logan into Daken having a spot at their ‘facilities’. Even after I’ve flat out rejected them.

“It’s not a permanent stay.” They insist. “Just a few weeks so we can gather information on his illness.”

Reed may have mentioned in his notes all those months back about Daken having major traits of pretty much every mental illness. Now people want to prod.  
Sometimes I wish he’d just keep things to himself. They’re even trying to give his illness a name. It's got a lot of letters in it. I can't even begin to pronounce it. The doctors love saying it. Every time he sees one. They throw it around like it's some cool new slang. He hates it. He hates that it has a label. 

I’ve read of him being referred to as ‘the chimera of mental illness’. Going off the ‘one thing composed of several other things’ thing. He seemed to like that one. I pointed out that it’s also a beast in Greek mythology…. Who happened to be a chick. He didn’t seem bothered because it was part lion and part snake. Whatever floats his boat- I guess. It’s one of his favorite comparisons so far at any rate.

“I know you do.” I smile at him. “He just wants to make sure you’re okay.”

“He wants,” Daken drawls, “To manage every little aspect of my life.”

“That’s not true.” I try to laugh- even though it's true.

Daken looks at me in an amused way. “He wants to put me back in the gloves, and have someone here to babysit when you’re gone, and for me to check in with him every other day, and- “

“All because he cares,” I assure. And damn has that ‘babysitter’ come in handy. In reality, she’s a housekeeper. I’m back to going on occasional missions that won’t take too long, and she watches him (and the house) While I’m gone. We tried billing her as ‘housekeeper’ to him- but he picked up on ‘ulterior motives’ and started calling her his ‘babysitter’. I think the ‘babysitter’ is actually Laura- but I keep that to myself.

I call her in when she’s not on missions and I am because he enjoys her company over the housekeepers. Also- she has a healing factor. Some moods he gets in and the housekeeper can’t go near him.

Kudos to her, though- the bitch stays. Logan must be paying top dollar- because Daken is actively trying to shake her.

His level of involvement is sometimes disquieting.

I mean Wolverine on his own is scary. Deadly even.

Papa wolverine is a thousand times worse.

“If he’s not overly involved- then why haven’t we fucked yet? I know he told you not to.” He narrows his eyes at that.

“Whoa.” I hold my hands up, trying to disarm the situation. “That’s a personal decision. You’re not ready for that yet.”

“Oh really?” He snorts. “You’re going to tell me what I’m ready for now?”

“Really.” I raise an eyebrow. “Talk to your therapist about it. She’ll tell you when it’s a good idea.”

“It’s a good idea when I say it is.” He growls.

“No, no it’s not. We’ll get halfway through and you’ll implode. You can barely stand to be touched as it is.”

“I don’t mind it when YOU do the touching.” He groans.

I smile. “I know. But I don’t want to take that chance. Not with ‘you know who’ so close to your mind.”

“Logan told you to say that.” He presses.

“Logan is trying to help you,” I say gently. “He’s doing it the best way he knows how. Bear with him- alright?”

He’s quiet for a second.

“Fine…. But I’m not happy about it.”

“No one expects you to be.” I chuckle. “But you and he are going to be in this for a long time. Make your peace with it.”

“Did you know that he wants a medical id?” Daken grouses as if that’s going to change my statement.

“…Not entirely a bad idea.” I muse.

“And what would it say- Johnny? “Fucked up past the point of acting civil in ordinary situations” or- “

“Unstable?” I offer.

He snorts again, turning around and starting to open the package of meat in his hands. “Unstable. That’s a nice one.”

“At least they look cool?” I try again.

He frowns. “When would I need it? I’m never out without anyone with me.”

“You get away from Bertha- “

“Fuck Bertha.” He exhales. “Fuck her. I want that bitch out of my house!”

Bertha… is the housekeeper. A round, older woman, with frizzy brown hair always up in ‘conservative’ hair style. She tries to sound sweet but has repeatedly pointed out that she doesn’t agree with Daken and my ‘lifestyle’ choices. She says she’s praying for me every time I see her.

Daken likes to ‘wander’ away from her when they run errands together. Eventually, the crowds or the stress gets too much and he makes a scene- leading her straight to him.

He tried to get home one time- leaving her there by herself. She caught him getting into the taxi. Fuck was she mad. She berated him for an hour.

I wait for him to cool down a bit. “You mad?” I walk over to him, stopping just a step or two away.

He chuckles, still messing with the bacon. “At you? No. At everyone else- maybe.”

“Well since I’m not on the shit list- can I hold you for a second?”

“Now? Why?”

“Because you just woke up?” I smirk. “And I notice that you’re a lot cuddlier when you first wake up. That and you always smell good…. And I’ve been out buying your food all morning- you owe me a cuddle or two.”

He turns and smirks at me. “If you must.”

“I must.” I wrap my arms around him. He’s shirtless- of course, with a pair of black low hanging sweats. Me, I’m dressed semi-decently having had to present myself to the public. Tank and shirt… but hey. It’s better than walking out in my sweats again. The press has yet to back off of us. They get a million pictures of me doing shit as simple as taking out the trash. “The Human Torch takes out the trash is his underwear” or something like that. I’ve thrown a few warning shots at some of the people who got too close to the perimeter.

The press is the main reason Daken and I moved.  
We’re a little closer to his dad’s school and a little further out of the city.

Nice little two story house with white carpeting- so he can’t see reflections in the wood floor- and a balcony- his request- and, the piece de resistance, a huge ass garage for me to work on cars in.

“So when’s he coming?” He asks in a quieter tone as he leans back against me, relaxing into my arms and putting the back of his head on my shoulder so he can look at me.

“I said I’d call him back this afternoon.”

“God.” He exhales, looking up at the ceiling.

“It’s fine. Just play nice- alright? You’re doing so much better. He’s got nothing to worry about.”

“…no I’m not.” He grouses again.

“Sure you are.” I soothe.

“He wants to know about the puking,” Daken says in a depressed way.

“Just a little-upset stomach.” I pat said stomach for emphasis. “That’s all. You take your anti-nausea shit before bed. You’ll be fine.”

He shakes his head. “It’s not just that.”

“What is it then?”

Daken frowns. “I heard what he was asking.”

“…Oh.”

“Oh.”

“Then… I don’t need to tell you what he wants me to do.”

“I’m not getting rid of them.” He says firmly. “I need to watch them.”

Okay…. “Daken- it’s fine- alright? YOU don’t need to ‘watch’ them. They’re not doing anything.”

“They move.” He hisses, closing his eyes.

“Did you ever stop to think that they were moving because of how much you’ve been handling the container? They didn’t ‘move’ before when they were on the shelf.”

“No, because then they were talking.” He says pointedly.

I wrap my arms around him tighter. As if it could stop the stream of complete delusions coming out of his mouth. “I know you thought you heard them- “

“I DID hear them.” He locks eyes with me as if daring me to question to him.

“I was right beside you. I didn’t hear anything.”

“My hearing's better than yours!” He argues. Starting to almost pull away from me.

His whole body tenses up. I soothingly run my hands over his arms which are hanging limply at his sides. I don’t use the word ‘tense’ out loud with him. That was one of Shifter’s ‘orders’ when he was ‘abusing’ him. ‘Tense up’. Like he had a choice at the time.

“You’re fine.” I soothe. “It’s all okay.”

“If he takes those ashes- I will gut him.” He threatens.

I sigh, kissing his cheek before letting him go. “You’re not gutting your father.”

“I will.” He swears. “I’m serious Johnny. He can’t have them. I will gut him.”

… “We’ll see then - won’t we?” I muse.

“We’ll see my ass.” He growls.

He goes to step away, but I grab his arms from behind.

I’ve got to be careful with this. I’m reading his signals as best I can.

He shoots me a pointed look and pulls away again. I grin at him and pull him back a little.

“Can I help you with something?” He tries to sound serious, but there’s a hint of laughter in his tone.

“Not really.” I smile, tugging on his arms again.

“Can you stop?” He chuckles.

I pull him back until he’s pressed against my chest again, wrapping my arms around him from behind.

“Are you going to hold me all day?” He fake grouses. “Because I’ve got things to do.”

“Oh?” I tease, starting to sway a little. “What do you have to get done?”

“Breakfast. And then I have some stuff to do upstairs.”

“What kind of stuff?”

We sway some more. “The kind that needs done.”

“Like…”

“Plotting world domination, Johnny.” He chuckles. “What do you think I’m doing?”

“Dicking around on the internet,” I say with a grin. “That’s what you always do.”

“I do not!”

“All you’ve been doing is finding music, movies, and new ways to cook chicken.”

He tries to pull away again, I let him get a good little distance before pulling him back. “Wanna watch a movie dear?”

“No.” He growls.

“Because you’ve got several.” I tease.

“And you’ve,” He drawls. “Been looking at my web history.”

“Guilty,” I say with a smirk.

I caught him watching the videos the other day. That and news clips from the time they found him.

He didn’t seem upset like I thought he would be.

…. though he did ask that if he ever went into shock like that again, that they not take so many pictures. He says that ghostly pale isn’t a good look for him.

“And what do you do on the internet?” He counters

“Porn,” I answer with a smirk. “What else is it for?”

He actually laughs.

“What’s so funny- huh?”

“Oh, nothing.” He rolls his eyes.

He tries to move again, but I hold him back. “Nah. You’re stuck here.”

“Let go.” He laughs.

“I’ll think about it.” I muse.

“Johnny….” He groans looking at the clock on the stove. “It’s ten twenty.”

Now I’m pushing it.

“So breakfast is delayed by a few minutes.” I shrug. “You’ll live.”

He pulls- I pull back.

“I’m going to kick you in the balls.” He threatens.

I chuckle, kissing his neck, “Then we’d not have sex for a very long time.”

He tilts his head and then starts to move his leg, spinning in a tight circle with me still holding one of his arms, and coming around in a roundhouse.

I quickly let go of him and grab his foot- holding it in front of me with a smile. “Too close.” I chide.

“Touché.” He grins before twisting his other leg and doing some kind of flip that wrenches his foot from me while allowing him to go over my head.

“Impressive.” I stand with a hand on my hip and smile at him.

He smiles at me. “Your turn.”

“So we’re playing- are we?” I laugh.

He grins and starts to run at me.

I miss a punch that was aimed for my shoulder by dropping to my knees and letting him slide over me.

As soon as I turn around he’s got his legs wrapped around my shoulders and his riding me to the ground.

The wind rushes out of my chest as my it hits the floor. He grabs my arm and pins it behind me.

“You lose.” He bends down in my ear.

“Not... so fast.” I arrange my knees underneath me and push up, knocking him back to the floor and getting to my feet, dancing around from foot to foot in a boxer’s pose until I’m on the other side of the floor. “Come at me.”

He grins from the floor and rushes me again, I catch his arm an inch from my chest, congratulating myself on my speed. A few months ago that would have been hit.

His grin widens. “You’re dead.” He says pleasantly.

“How?” I ask in disbelief. “I blocked.”

“You’re in my kill zone.” He says simply.

“I am not.”

“Look how close I am to your chest.” He says patiently.

“So? That’s not a hit.”

“It would be if I had my claws out.”

“They can’t reach that far!” I protest.

He cocks an eyebrow. “Yes, they can.”

“No, they can’t. You’re cheating.”

He rolls his eyes. “You always say that.”

“Well, you always cheat.” I laugh.

He smiles. “Hold still.”

“Is this more cheating?”

“This is evidence.” He laughs.

I look at his hand as it tenses up. “We need a judge in here- and a witness.”

“I’m the judge.” He says teasingly. “You’re the witness.”

I lean my head back and laugh. “The call is against you! You can’t be the judge.”

“Just shut up and hold still.”

I watch in fascination as his claws slowly slide from his knuckles, stopping a small distance from my chest. If I were to move in any way, it would be touching me.

“See?”

I shake my head. “There’s no way there’s any more in there. I need more proof.”

Daken laughs loudly. “What do you want- an X- ray?”

“I want to measure it,” I say stubbornly.

“Well good luck with that.” He teases.

I stare at his claws. If you really look at them- they are something to behold. It’s a kind of morbid beauty around them.

“The third one wouldn’t reach.” I try to counter.

“No, it would stab your arm.” He smiles. “Which would make you let go.”I stare at him.

“Truce?” I laugh.

“There is no truce.” He raises an eyebrow again. “Only surrender.”

He pulls his claws in and removes his arm, walking back to the other side of the room.

“Scared?” I tease.

“Tactical retreat.” He corrects. “After a failed head on attack- get distance.”

“‘Distance’ huh? Sounds like you’re scared.”

“I fear nothing.” He teases back, rushing me again. This time, he jumps me, wrapping his legs around my waist.

I lean forward and kiss him, grinning. “Please tell you don’t do this during a fight,” I ask when we pull apart.

“Why? Don’t you find it distracting?”

“Oh yes.”

“Don’t move.” He says again, bringing his hand down and catching some of the material of my shirt with his claws.

“If you cut me-“

“I’m not cutting you.” He soothes, his free hand wrapping around the back of my head.

The air hits my chest pleasantly. He brings his now clawless hand up to my shoulder, wrapping it around too. He removes the shirt and lets it fall to the floor.

“You know- I can’t fight you if you attach yourself to me and then start to ruin my clothing.”

“Good thing for you then- you won’t have to lose.” He smiles. “Do you concede?”

“Never.” I kiss him again, Smiling. A small twist has him sitting on the kitchen counter while I settle between his legs. “Ten thirty- five.” I tease.

He looks at the stove in disdain. “Look what you’ve done.”

“What I’ve done??” I kiss him again. “Oh no dear,” Another kiss. “That was all you.”

He rolls his eyes. “I was protecting myself.”

“Oh really?” I raise an eyebrow.

“You are a fiend.” He continues, kissing me gently.

We’ve got to be careful. This is dangerous territory.

“I didn’t straddle you, sir. I think it was the other way around.”

“You were holding me against my will.” He argues. “I defended myself.”

That brings me to a more somber note. “You okay?” I ask much more quietly.

Daken’s gaze softens. “Yea.” He nods. “I’m okay.”

“All the kissing is okay?”

He nods. “Yea.”

“And I’m okay with being between your legs?”

“Yea.” He was less willing with that one. I’ll have to watch it.

“Stomach okay?” I kiss him after this.

“Hungry.” He says pointedly. “Because someone decided to be an ass.”

I go to say something but my phone interrupts me by going off.

Both of our eyes follow the noise to the phone on the counter by the grocery bags.

“It’s Logan,” Daken says playfully, picking it up from the counter.

“Give it to me.” I reach a hand for it, but he jerks it away, using his position on the counter to hold it above my head. “He’ll be pissed if I don’t answer.”

“I could answer.” Daken teases. “Something along the lines ‘help! he’s got me pinned to the kitchen counter!’.”

“Don’t you dare,” I say in mock horror.

The phone continues to ring; he looks at me with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“He’s going to keep calling,” I warn.

“I’m building anticipation.” He says innocently.

“The last thing your father needs is anticipation.” I grouse. “Give me the phone. If I don’t answer, he’ll be over here in like five minutes. You know he has a teleporter.”

Daken sighs and lowers the phone into my grasp.

“Hello?” I slide to talk and answer at the same time.

“What took you so long?” Logan demands. He sounds pissed.

I look at Daken who’s grinning. “I was helping Daken with breakfast. Sorry about that.”

“Ya? Well, answer the damn phone next time. You’re supposed to be the one we can get in contact with.”

“He really needed the help,” I say, watching him nod.

“Really badly.” He whispers, draping his arms over my shoulders.

“…. He okay?” Logan’s anger disappears instantly.

“Yup. He is perfectly fine. Having a very good morning, by the way. Good mood and all.”

“Good enough for him to stay away,” Daken whispers.

I mouth a simple ‘shut up’ to him.“Not too ‘good’ is it?”

“No, he seems to be stable. Not too up, not too down.”

“Good to know. It’s… about ten forty. He done eating yet?”

 Daken looks at me. “No,” He whispers. “Because someone’s a jackass who likes to fuck up schedules.”

“No…” I stick my tongue out at him. “He’s hasn’t started yet. We’re still unpacking the groceries.”

Logan laughs. “Isn’t he behind schedule then?”

“He had to…” I look around the kitchen. “Clean up the kitchen.”

“You got him to clean?” Logan says in disbelief.

“Oh yes,” I say brightly. “He’s been very helpful this morning.”

He rolls his eyes.

“I find that hard to believe.” Logan snorts.

“He’s capable of cleaning.” I laugh.

Logan chuckles. “I don’t think so. I just got off the phone with your housekeeper.”

Fuck. “Really?” I try to sound surprised.

What’s he done to her this time?

I can see him smirking.

“She said he lit something on fire and trashed the house the other day.”

I look at him with a raised eyebrow and he shrugs. “I did not know that.”

“Uh hmm. Didn’t say what was on fire but did say it was because they had an argument.” He clears his throat. “Another one about the topic we’ve been discussing.”

She… I told her not to bring it up.

He knows Daken’s close by. His doctor said not to bring up the pills unless we had to. Unless he brought them up first. Eventually, he’ll get used to being on them- until then, we’re supposed to let him decide how to handle this.

The housekeeper was well aware of this. I told her three times.

“I will… talk with him about that and see to it no more fires…. “I put emphasis on the word for him. “Are set ablaze.”

Logan chuckles. “She said he locked her out of the house too. Must have been one hell of an argument.”

I look at him with a hint of amusement. Our housekeeper is a bitch. She demands that he be kept on the tightest leash imaginable. She tries to keep tabs on him every second she’s over here and it drives him crazy. His antics get worse when she’s here because she upsets him more than helps.

“I’m sure she just lost her key.” I try to defend.

“No, I’m pretty sure he locked her out. She says he took her keys and hid them…. She was calling so I’d give her another copy for this week.” Because I will be at a conference in California…. And X is on a mission all this week.

“Fuck that bitch.” He growls.

Logan laughs again, probably having heard Daken’s remark.

“Then that is another conversation that I will most definitely have with him.” I try to sound serious.

“Ya know what? I’ll just come talk to him myself…. So he gets the point.”

He mouths ‘fuck’ and leans his head back against the wall.

“Sure, eh… we’ll be here.”

He hangs up and I can’t help but laugh at Daken’s defeated expression.

“Looks like daddy found out about your favorite pass time.” I tease.

He looks at me with a slight grin. “It’s more of a ‘hobby’.”

“Did you really set something on fire?”

He shakes his head. “She’s lying. I flicked the lighter near her to see if that cloud of perfume and hair spray that follows her would light on fire.”

I laugh out loud. “So you attempted to set a fire…. And you tried to use her perfumed body for fuel?”

“What? She insisted on touching my things…. And talking. God she never shut up. She smelled funny. She made me sit in the kitchen with her while she cooked.”

“I know you don’t like her-“

“All she eats is cabbage. It smells disgusting.”

“Daken-“

“When we go somewhere she holds onto my arm.” He crosses his arms. “And the bitch seemed convinced that I was on medication. I tried to defend myself but she said I was delusional!” He laughs. “Bitch deserves what she gets.”.

He doesn’t know. He truly, honest, wholeheartedly, doesn’t know.

I don’t laugh.

He looks at me for a second. “Johnny?”

“Daken…”

He backs away for a bit, looking at my eyes. “What is it?”

We’re silent for a second, just looking at each other. “Honey,” I say gently. “You are on medication.”

He laughs abruptly. “No I’m not.”

I stare at him.

I can’t believe he’s still this in denial about it.

“…. Am I?” He asks uncertainly.

“Ya,” I say gently. “Two months ago you went catatonic again…. it lasted for three weeks…”

“No- no-“

“Mm-hmm.” I nod. “Remember? When you woke up because you’d been ‘there’ so long, you were uncontrollable. I couldn’t leave the house for a month. Reed came up with these pills to help… and they worked. You’re a lot calmer than you were.”

“...no.” He sounds so defeated. “No… I would know. I don’t remember it.”

I nod. “Yes. We’ve been giving the pills to you… but you keep blacking out when it’s time to take them. Not like passing out blacking out, but totally blocking it from your memory. You deny taking them so intensely that your brain completely makes you forget that it happens.”

He shakes his head again. “No.” He hates it when he disassociates and has these problems. Loss of memory… he...

Poor Daken.

A lot of conversations come back to that.

There’s really nothing else to say. He’s got is normal moments- like fighting in the kitchen and getting to be all lovey on the counter…. But then…. There are these moments. Times where I’m just hit in the face with how sick he is.

“Yes.” I lean up and kiss his forehead. “Reed made you something to help with the hallucinations. You take it once every week.”

“But…”

“That’s why you sleep so much on the weekends.” I offer. “You take it Friday after dinner.”

He’s silent for a second. “Fuck.”

“Yea.” I smile. “It’s okay.”

“But-“

“It’s a starter pill,” I tell him. “They’ve made a whole line of them…. remember? Dr. Willis said we’re going to start you on some more in the beginning of the week.”

“No.” His eyes are wide- “No, I’m not-“

“Shhh, shh.” I take his face in my hands.

“Johnny-“

I kiss him softly, letting him lean his head against mine. “The effects are really good,” I assure him. “You don’t have nearly the same amount of episodes that you used to have.”

“I just can’t remember taking the pill.” He grouses.

“You’re blocking it out for some reason.” I agree. “But we’ll just keep talking about it until it sticks.”

“Will I block all of them out?”

I glance down. “We don’t know…. but you’ll be taking them every day.”

“…is it safe?”

I nod. “Very. Reed’s spent a fortune in perfecting it. It’s tested well against schizophrenics, people with bipolar, DID patients, people with chronic depression- “

He nods. “Right.”

I put a hand under his chin. “Ten-fifty.” I tease softly. “I’m going to make breakfast.”

“Ya…”

I walk over to the stove and reach into the cabinet hanging above it- pulling out a frying pan.

He stays on the counter beside me, not moving. “How hungry are you?” I ask gently.

He doesn’t answer.

“Hey,” I let the pan heat up on the stovetop and go back to him. “It’s okay. Alright? Everyone forgets things.”

He nods.

“Just a little mind slip- alright?”

He nods again.

“You know what day it is?”

“Monday.”

“Month?”

“…. October.” Almost a year. This time last year he was undergoing the procedures. Pretty much in the middle of them. Now he’s dealing with the fallout from those.

I can’t believe it’s been a year. Less than a year since he met ‘you know who’. Less than a year since the doctors. Less than a year since the compound- both of them.

Four months since we moved. Two months since his last catatonic spell.

“Right.” I grin. “Do you know where you are?”

“New York.”

“Right.” I smile at him wider. “See? You’re fine. You know the when’s and the where. You’re fine.”

He nods for the third time. “Hurry up.” He motions back to the stove. “We’re late.”

“Yea.” I lean up and kiss him again, taking my phone out and turning some music on.We sit in silence for a second as the guitar rift drifts through the air.

The lyric that sticks out to me is a simple line really. ‘It’s times like these you learn to live again.’ Seems applicable. We’re learning how to live after a nuclear fallout.

A bomb that changed the very shape of our futures...

And we’re just learning how to live around it. Growing over it… as it were.

Though I can honestly say- all meltdowns and episodes considered- I’d rather be learning to live this with him… I’d rather be where I am now- than I would anywhere else.

I look over at him, catching his eyes.

“I love you,” I say gently. “You know that, right? I wouldn’t make you do anything that was going to hurt you.”

He nods. “I love you too.”

He does. I can feel it from time to time when he doesn’t watch his pheromones. People call that his ‘Johnny’ emotion. They like feeling it.

“I’m going to take care of you,” I promise, focusing on the pan.

He hangs his head.

“Shh,” I reach a hand up and squeeze his shoulder. “It’s okay.”

“I know.” He says finally. “I know it is.”

That’s all we can ask for. It’s sure as hell all we’re going to get. So for now, we just make happy with what we’ve got. He’ll take pills with grace- hopefully. And we’ll find a way to work around this fallout.

He has a slight smile on his face as he watches me.

I’d do anything for that smile.

For right now, that’s all we need.


End file.
